Elaboration
by StellarBound
Summary: The movie glossed over some small lines and moments that felt like something very meaningful. This is my take on what, exactly, may be the story behind these little moments with a lot of promise. Because sometimes you just want to know why. Pretty much Jack-centric.
1. Sandy's Demise

**A/N**: Well I thought I was pretty much done with fanfiction...and then this movie happened. Why, Dreamworks? Why do you keep doing this to me?! I now have about 5 word documents and 4 photoshop files open and _all_ of them center around Rise of the Guardians, and more specifically, Jack. He's just such a well-developed and well-made character! Makes him so much fun to play around with. :3

Anyway, this is just gonna be a little series of drabbles and the like, of snippets of the movie that stood out to me. There were so many subtle lines or events in that movie that just cried out for a back story, or spoke of something behind them. And those thoughts are what I'll be writing here, which is why I'm calling it "Elaboration"

This first drabble was sparked by Jack's extreme reaction to Sandy's 'death' by Pitch. I think that was the only time in the movie Jack reacted so violently to anything. So here's my thoughts on why.

**~Sandy's Demise~**

For a moment, Jack was too horrified to move as he watched Sandy being overtaken by black sand. It was a scene straight out of a nightmare...quite literally in this case.

He had never talked to the Sandman before this whole guardian business, but in a way the eldest guardian had always been there for him. When the days turned dark and children went to bed, Jack found it harder to distract himself from the loneliness that crept up on him far more often than he'd like. Sometimes he'd travel to other parts of the world where it was still daytime, but he couldn't just fly around, chasing the sun across the world. Besides, he always held a secret hope deep in his heart that this time, this night, the moon would speak to him; even though it never did.

He remembered every one of those darkest nights, when he begged and pleaded silently and out loud with the world to just _notice_ him. A simple wave and a smile would've made him happy. It was these nights, when the despair of his life threatened to overwhelm him, that the streams of golden dream sand never failed to find him. He always watched the sandman's work, but these were the nights where it seemed to seek him out. Every time, he couldn't help reaching out a hand into the soft tendrils of sand that curled around his thin body, and what jumped out at him was always a new and delightful surprise.

Every single time, it brought a smile to his face, even when the shimmering light from the sand highlighted the little tracks of frost on his cheeks, as moisture did not stay on his skin long before freezing over. Oftentimes, sparkling, golden dolphins jumped out to join whatever that night's theme was. They nearly always got a laugh from him, and he just loved watching them jump and swim around in the air. He was never quite sure why the dolphins were the only things that repeated, except that they are known as playful creatures, and Jack certainly was too.

But right now, fun was the last thing on his mind as he launched himself from North's sleigh. He'd never asked this much from the wind as he kept chanting _faster, faster, faster!_ in his head. But it wasn't fast enough. Only half way there and he watched that beautiful glow of gold enveloped by pure, horrific darkness. Jack stopped cold, eyes wide and he felt like his heart dropped out of his chest, because he just watched the only symbol of hope and warmth he'd ever known get snuffed out like a flickering candle. "No..." he whispered, unbelieving. And then the reality slammed into him like he was waking up in that dark, icy lake all over again. "NO!" he shouted, face twisting fiercely in an expression rarely, rarely seen on his forever young and gentle features. Every lonely and cold night was reflected back at him in that wall of darkness charging towards him, and he charged right back because after everything Sandy had done for him, even when they'd never officially met, Jack wasn't able to do a scorching thing in return and he felt something inside himself snap, and bitter rage became the fuel for the greatest display of power he'd ever shown.

* * *

Scorching would be a curse for Jack. You know it would.

So this is probably the shortest thing I've ever published on this site. But like I said...drabbles! Just feels weird putting up something less than a few thousand words. Oh well. Enjoy! Hopefully I'll be able to add other stuff to this within a decent amount of time.


	2. It's Not the Clothes You Wear

**A/N: **Here's something I've seen speculated before: where and when did Jack get the hoodie he wears now, instead of the cloak and shirt he started out with? Well here's my take, but as per the theme of these mini stories, I'll be focusing more on the why, than the how.

Also I feel like my fellows who enjoy exploring the more angsty and 'woe is me I'm invisible' part of Jack will like this series, because that's pretty much where these ideas keep going. It's just too deep and wide a pit to avoid... -.-

* * *

**~...It's Not the Clothes You Wear~**

It was a bitterly cold day in Columbus, Ohio, which is exactly why Jack Frost could be seen - if only one would just _look_ - flying through the air in this particular city, twirling and dancing with the wind, a broad smile on his face and his laughter ringing unheard through the streets. The northeast bit of the United States was his favorite place. He was never sure why, but it always sang in his heart with an echo that sounded like _home_, so home it was, as much as a wandering spirit has a home.

And now winter had made its rounds to this place again, and Jack was all too eager to follow. He leapt through the streets, touching his staff to anything that fell within his sights - which was pretty much everything - until the whole city had been adorned with his beautiful artwork of frosty designs, never once repeating a pattern, and bringing a chilly calm to the bustling city.

He flew up high, crossing his arms and sitting in mid-air, observing his masterpiece with an air of satisfaction. He still wasn't sure why he had these powers at his disposal, but it certainly made him happy to use them.

Only a moment later, the wind tugged at his lightly-frayed cloak, and he turned his head in the direction it pointed, curious. What he found were two young boys at the top of a hill, by all appearances wrestling each other. Jack chuckled and drew a little closer, wondering if the smaller boy would be able to pull off a victory, when he realized they weren't playing - they were actually fighting.

Frowning, Jack started wondering how he might be able to break them up, when they did the job for him. The larger boy, unsurprisingly, managed to grab the upper hand, and shoved hard at the smaller. Normally it would have just knocked him back a little, but with the newly laid ice patches, the boy's foot found one, and with a frightened yell, he slipped backward onto the hill, both sliding and tumbling down.

"Woah!" Jack cried, immediately flying after the boy. "Don't worry, I've got you!" he said needlessly - he still liked to talk to the children, even if they couldn't hear him. He picked up his speed to get a little bit ahead, and laid a thin coating of ice beneath the boy's path to ease the friction, and as he neared the bottom, he blasted the area with enough snow to make his landing soft.

The boy's head popped out of the pile of snow, looking a little dazed, and the boy that Jack was beginning to label 'bully' yelled a couple threats down the hill. "Come on," Jack whispered, delicately landing near the boy he'd just helped. "Get out of here before he decides to follow you down!"

The child shivered, before seeming to snap back to himself, and scrambled out of the pile of snow, not really noticing that it was the only patch in the entire area. Jack couldn't really blame him, he was probably terrified. The winter sprite followed him all the way home, feeling a little protective after seeing him being attacked like that, and especially knowing that the ice had nearly caused him serious harm. He loved being mischievous - it's just who he was - but knowing that the ice could harm as much as it brought joy kind of broke his heart. He couldn't help guarding the children from its darker side as much as he could.

The boy was greeted by concerned parents, wondering why he was home later than he'd promised, and Jack tried not to wince when the door closed in his face. "You're welcome!" he said to the door, frowning as he heard the lock slide into place. But as always, he brushed it off a moment later, and since he really had nothing better to do at the moment, floated over to the window that overlooked the family's living room. There were hugs and kisses exchanged after the boy relayed what had happened, and Jack, not really wanting to watch anymore of the familial display, turned to go somewhere else until the mother said something that caught his attention. She said his name.

Jack was back against the window in an instant, pressing his hands against the glass until the touch and his breath began to ice it over to the point he couldn't see. With a noise of frustration, he backed away far enough to stop the ice formation.

"Yeah, Jack Frost, Jack Frost!" the kid exclaimed, bouncing up and down a few times before bouncing right onto the couch.

Jack didn't understand. He had just been with the kid for nearly ten minutes, and he hadn't noticed him at all, but here he was, saying his name! And then the parents were sitting down with the kid, and the TV in front of them was turned on. Jack frowned at it with narrowed eyes. He hadn't liked those things since their explosion in popularity about a decade before. They kept children inside, staring at a box of moving pictures, while snow sat outside, untouched. It wasn't all the time, but there were a fair number of cold and snowy days now where Jack observed the kids sitting in front of these TVs, huddled in warm pajamas and paying no attention to the snow Jack lovingly laid out for them, a beckoning blanket promising a world of fun if they would step outside and acknowledge it. This extra neglect had kindled a lot of other emotions he'd bottled up over the years, and all at once culminated in a temporary depression that bore a blizzard that would ruin any chances he had of befriending the Easter kangaroo-bunny for a long time to come.

His thoughts completely derailed when an image popped up on the TV, his name written in bold, white letters, and he was right up against the window again. He was on the TV?! How was that possible? He bit his lip and looked at the window latches. It was unlocked. He was pretty sure there was a rule or something about sneaking into people's houses, but he _had_ to see what was going on here. Slowly - oh so slowly - he tugged the window open, watching intently for any sign that the family heard him. Luckily the TV was just loud enough to mask the scrape of wood, and Jack was, for once, acutely aware of and very thankful for his very small frame. He didn't have to open it far before he could slide in, and just as carefully close the window behind him.

He felt like he was doing something that would get him into a lot of trouble, but who was going to punish him? Certainly not parents, and _certainly_ not the moon! After all, it never paid attention to him anymore. So, with only his inner sense of conscience scolding him, Jack walked closer, staring somewhat dumbfounded at the TV.

It started off with a lie - he had no such deal with the groundhog! That stupid little rodent was always eager to get rid of winter; Jack had lost count of how many times he had to trick the thing by playing with the light, and creating shadows. Luckily the groundhog was also kind of skittish, and it had become a sort of annual game for Jack.

Adjusting his grip on his staff, Jack stepped a little closer, cocking his head curiously as the movie played on. It was still a marvel to him, how the humans continued to rapidly create new ways to use electricity. But that thought was brushed aside when the movie started centering on its depiction of Jack Frost. He looked a little weird, but the basics were the same - white hair, blue eyes, petite and playful; had someone seen him before? He couldn't help the little spark of hope as this Jack expressed loneliness, and a desire to be with the humans. Although he couldn't help the incredulous expression as the movie depicted some huge winter kingdom in the clouds, with a big guy called 'Father Winter.'

"Really?" he asked no one, turning to the family to see them looking completely spellbound. "Oh come on, there's no snowflake-cutting man, or...or 'flake-flipping snow gypsies'!" He couldn't stop the laughter as he quoted that, before continuing his monologue. "That stuff is mine! I control all of it! I'm pretty sure I would've found an entire winter kingdom by now! And I would definitely know if there was a man named 'Father Winter'."

As always, he remained unheard, and eventually he deflated and sat on the floor.

Suddenly, the wife broke the family's silence by complaining that it had gotten cold, and decided to turn up the heater. Jack curled in on himself a bit, knowing he was the reason for her discomfort, but he couldn't leave. There was a movie about _him!_...sort of. What if this changed their minds about him? What if...? He got distracted again as the movie threw romance into the picture. He stuck his tongue out and made a face. Romance? Him? Ha! This Jack was really going to give up everything he was for some human who was supposedly in love with him? And then Jack wondered...would he, if it meant being known and loved? He shook his head and frowned at himself. "Don't be stupid," he chastised himself aloud. No sense wondering about what wouldn't happen.

The part that probably struck him most was their depiction of Jack turning human. The narrator said he felt things he'd never felt before...like a heartbeat. Jack gently lifted his hand to cover his chest, feeling the beat, slow...but steady. "But I _do _have a heart..." he whispered to deaf ears. "I have a heart..." he whispered again so quietly even he could barely hear it.

And the movie went on, talking about Jack as a person, as someone who actually came around every winter, bringing beauty and fun to the people who _knew_ he existed, but was just invisible. But it didn't work that way. Jack was aware that he was only invisible because people didn't believe in him. The Easter Bunny had been _kind_ enough to tell him so. But if this movie was what the humans thought...then why would he still be invisible?

"Mommy?" Jack heard the boy ask as the movie ended.

"Yes, sweetie?" she replied, turning off the TV.

"Is Jack Frost real?"

Jack's breath caught in his throat, and he sprang up and nearly stumbled as he jumped in front of the kid. "Yes!" he said excitedly, bouncing on his toes. "Yes, I am! I'm right here!"

The boy's mother laughed softly and ruffled his hair. "Of course not, it's just a movie based off an old saying."

"Aw," the boy replied, sounding a little disappointed, but believing his mother's words.

There was a knife in his heart, Jack was sure of it. He turned to the mother, angry and upset. "It's _not_ just a movie!" he shouted at her, desperate tears gathering in his eyes. "Why won't you just _believe_?! Or at least let him!" He gestured wildly at the boy. "Why can Santa and the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy be real, but not _me_?"

He angrily wiped at his eyes and, too flustered to care about stealth at the moment, wrenched the window back open and called the wind to carry him away. His vision was blurry and combined with his lack of focus, he ended up flying himself right into a tree, falling a few branches before landing on a sturdy one, his staff clutched tightly in his hand by reflex. He didn't even care as he buried his face in his knees, so _angry_ at the world, at the moon, and the mother who wouldn't let her kid believe. He sniffled into his cloak, and suddenly pulled his head back, staring at the brown cloth. "Is it the clothes?" he questioned the twilight air. The Jack Frost the people made up was wearing all silver. Maybe they couldn't see him because he looked too different.

Thinking with emotions instead of the head worth a couple centuries of observed knowledge, Jack took off again with a single purpose in mind. He scoured the city, until he saw a well-lit department store. He waited for someone to open the doors, which wasn't long with the holiday season nearing; a lot of people could be found shopping at all random times.

He'd never actually been inside one of these places before. It looked a lot bigger than it did from the windows! He took to the air and glanced around until he saw the boys' section. He flew straight to it, not sure what he was looking for. He didn't exactly want to wear something so gaudy as the movie version of him did, but maybe something of a winter color would do? People seemed to use blue and silver for that, not so surprisingly the very colors of his own features.

He darted around from rack to rack, shelf to shelf, looking for anything that stood out. He found a gray shirt, but he didn't want to wear gray. Too dull, not his style. Finally he found a rack of sweatshirts, and approached it with interest. There was one of a deep blue that practically called his name and, quickly checking to make sure no one would see an article of clothing float into the air, he grabbed it. Knowing no one would see him, he unlatched the cloak, and decided to remove his shirt as well - it felt like a huge step into something, like he was changing more than his clothes. He shrugged off the feeling, not quite liking the uncertainty of it, and pulled on the blue hoodie. He turned to a nearby mirror, but there was no reflection. He frowned; he'd forgotten about that, as it had become an unconscious habit to stay away from mirrors after the first time he'd made that discovery. He touched his staff to it, so that a smooth sheet of ice covered it, and his reflection appeared on the glossy surface. His frown turned to a small smile. At least the ice was always faithful to him. He watched with interest as frost began to creep down the sweater where it lay closest to his skin. It was like a statement, somehow...a declaration of his identity if even to only himself. His cloak had only ever dusted with frost at the edges. He pulled the hood over his head, liking the way it felt like a bit of shelter; a sort of protection he could withdraw into, and that more than anything decided for him. He glanced at his brown pants as well, but decided he would leave those. He kind of liked them, and there was no way he was wearing shiny silver pants. Or shoes. Especially weird pointy shoes that would make him look like some kind of elf. Elves were pointy. He was not.

Twisting a couple of times in front of the ice mirror, Jack smirked at himself, deciding he rather liked this new look. He let his fingers trail over the cloak he'd worn for just over two and a half centuries, a silent goodbye to something that had always just been a part of him. He hung it on the rack where the sweatshirt had been as a trade, wondering what the person who found it would think, entertaining ideas of a grand investigation being launched to find out how clothing from the 1700s had gotten on the rack.

He waited again to be let out the doors, which took only a little longer than getting in. Once he was free, he flew over the city, searching out the kids who had stayed out later to play, still running on the hope brought by change. "Hey!" he called cheerfully as he landed next to a group of three kids out at the park with their parents. It was only a moment before one of the kids ran right through him, and the fragile hope shattered.

Jack bit his lip hard and closed his eyes. He was _not_ going to cry. He was approaching 300 years old! He wouldn't-

Cold hands reached back and pulled the hood of his new sweatshirt over his head, drawing his face into shadows as the last rays of the sun faded from view. "Take me home, wind," he said quietly, holding his staff out and jumping into the breeze that flowed in gently to carry him away, leaving only a dusting of frost and a brewing tempest in his wake.

* * *

My God, the _angst_! o.o A solid 2700ish words of it. I guess this is what I get for writing when I'm feeling down... Well, hope you enjoy it! (At least it's longer this time!) This popped into my head yesterday, and I kind of liked the idea that Jack got the sweatshirt thinking it would make him look like something people would expect to see. We don't always think too clearly in our more highly emotional moments, and Jack's existence is forever captured in an age that doesn't yet have the solid confidence and maturity level of adulthood. (Heck, I was mature for a normal teenager, and I'm still realizing how badly I didn't have it together then! Pff, not that I actually do now, either...) Poor Jack has to figure out how to grow up, when he doesn't actually grow up. That's gotta be confusing.

Also, I did look up and watch the 1979 movie "Jack Frost" just to write this chapter. It was like research, only fun.

The time period was fitting, I thought, considering it's a fairly modern hoodie design. And this story, of course, ignores the possibility that Jack would have found other clothes between that colonial outfit and his modern garb.


End file.
